Proof of Life
by threesquares
Summary: Set between Aliens in a Spaceship and The Headless Witch in the Woods, my story of What Happened Next, and in answer to Razztastic's Fill in the Blank Summer Fan Fic Challenge where we all (everyone is welcome) use this spot in cannon to write and see how different the results are!


Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.

A/N: So in answer to Razztastic's Fill in the Blank Summer Fanfic challenge, which I am not going to look up and quote from exactly because there was at least one part I was going to willfully disobey anyway except now I can say that I must not have remembered correctly. Shhh. Don't tell her. Anyway. I believe the challenge is to write a story that takes place between the end of Aliens and the beginning of Headless Witch in the Woods so that we would then have a bunch of fics located in the same space and it would be fun to see what different people did with it. (Feel free to join in if you want.) This is mine. Obviously. 3sq 6/30/13

**B**

Booth could see his own helpless grin reflected on her face, dusty and sweat-streaked though it was. He could feel the giddy laughter of relief shaking her body, as it shook his. He was aware, as well, of the others clustered around Hodgins, of Cam's wide smile as she stood over them, of the teams of paramedics and FBI agents swarming down the slope toward them, rigging a system to carry the two, possibly wounded, victims, back up to the top. In a minute, this would be a crime scene, a mobile medical site, and before that happened, he reached out to grip Bones' shoulder and pull her into him but she was already curling against him, clutching his back with her strong, scientists fingers and the sand dust from her hair and clothes made him want to sneeze.

His partner. _His Bones_. If she had died... Her smart mouth and quick mind; the way she laughed—at the weirdest things or not at things that were actually funny; the way she stood beside him and did this sometimes ugly job with him. If she had died, Booth realized, he would have been _lonely_. He would have been alone in a way that surprised him to know now. He hadn't realized that they were..._together_. I mean, he knew they were partners and he had had partners before, or at least, comrades, close coworkers. But, she was a woman and...well, _Bones_ and she was different...even now he censored himself from thinking the word _strange_...and he knew he trusted her but he hadn't realized that even her non-mortal leaving would actually hurt him, would leave a hole, a big fucking hole...a _wound_ even.

But these thoughts were like sitting dead red on a fastball, swinging and instead of hitting that expected fast ball 400 ft into the stands, you hit the ball hard into the ground, the pitch having been a risky curve ball that didn't pay off. He still got the hit but is a little stunned to have so misjudged the play.

Bones insisted on walking up the hill, although she allowed him to help on one side, even leaned on Zach on the other. Hodgins was strapped to a stretcher with sled rails instead of wheels, the better to pull him up the hill. Booth could feel the ground move and looked up to see a industrial sized bulldozer rolling along from the other size of the quarry, moving into place to try to retrieve the buried car and the evidence it contained. They must've been able to reach the owners of the quarry.

Sweat had soaked through his shirt from the blinding afternoon sun, the adrenaline still coursing through him, and his sprint down the hill. When he could feel the burn in his calves as they made their way up the shifting slope of sand, he made them stop. Booth glanced up and then down, measuring. They were about halfway up the slope and he stripped his suit coat off, shifted awkwardly from foot to foot to get his shoes and socks off, and handed the whole mess to Zach.

"Wha—?" Booth cut him off.

"Zach, thanks." He gave the smaller man a little nod of recognition. "Thanks, but I think we're going to have to carry Dr. Brennan the rest of the way up and I need someone closer to my size for balance." He raised a hand and gestured for Jeff Purdy to join him. It both worried and relieved him that Bones made no protest when he had her sit on the chair he and Purdy made with their hands and started hauling her up the rest of the way, his bare feet earning better purchase on the sand.

It seemed to Booth later that after those first long minutes of clarity beside her on the ground of the quarry, the next thing he really remembered was taking her away.

The quiet and cool of the truck felt like a milestone. Step 1: Find Bones. Step 2: Dig Bones out of the ground. Step 3: Get Bones away from that place. He was unclear how much time had been spent in the still beating sun, allowing an agent to take only the most necessary, minimal statement from her; getting her checked at the ambulance; navigating further questions of techs and agents. He wasn't asking the questions this time, and although he knew it was important, he stepped in often to cut off all but the most essential questions, essential in _his_ opinion. The beast in him had been snarling and close to the surface since she was taken, and it was hungry for any opportunity to bite and rip again. That one small taste of freedom when it played with Vega made it stronger and it was just barely leashed even now. Twice someone had to step in to get him to back down from where he stood between them and Bones. He remembered Cam's restraining hand on his arm at one point.

There was a towel under Bones in the truck and she was a mess, even though her face had been washed clean at some point. Her head tipped back, her body limp against the seat, still the pale blue grey eyes were open on him, bright and alert in the pale oval of her face. He pulled into a truck stop just a few miles from the quarry and came around to help her out, first getting his gym bag from the back. He paid for use of the showers and hovered nearby, waiting, as Bones got cleaned up best she could. 24 hours was a long time to be shut into a car without a bathroom. Bones, however, was reassuringly immodest and practical about bodily matters and when she came out she smiled at him, hair damp and making snakey wet trails in his old Flyers shirt. Her eyes were tired but her smile turned to a laugh as she spread her arms wide in display. His clothes were so big on her, it was amazing that they stayed on, and it really_ was_ funny. He finally found it in him to laugh again.

When they reached the truck, he moved the dirty towel from the seat and deposited all the soiled clothes and the towel into a large evidence bag in the back. Bones settled herself in the seat again and was asleep almost immediately. Just as well, they had an hour and a half drive to get home.

**B**

Booth stretched and rubbed his hand over his face tiredly. It was the late afternoon of the longest fucking day ever. He leaned his head back against Bones' easily wipable leather chair. He was dusty and sweaty and he wasn't sure why he had stayed but he knew he couldn't just leave her. She woke easily enough when they pulled up to her apartment and answered his questions about shower and food readily enough. She didn't, however, suggest that he leave and seemed to take his presence for granted. A door opening and closing had him looking up. Bones stood in the doorway of her living room in pants and a shirt, and the familiar scent of her shampoo and soap and face cream or whatever shit women put on washed over him. She smiled with a twist of her mouth and offered him his clothes.

"Booth, would you like to take a shower too? You are—" She wrinkled her nose, "pretty dirty too. I was clean when I put these on. You could change into them." He came closer, took the clothes from her, nodded as if it were any other day, trying to keep things light and normal. "Good idea, Bones, thanks."

This time with her, in her apartment, felt surprisingly domestic. He had never taken a shower in her apartment before, although he had been in the bathroom. When he got out of the shower, he put on his sweats and the Flyers shirt, still a little damp in spots, and also put on his socks and running shoes. His feet burned and throbbed from the workout they had received on the sliding sands of the quarry. His _dogs were barking_ as Pops would say. The shoes, and the four ibuprofen he downed standing at her kitchen sink, would help quiet them. Brennan joined him at the sink and held out half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, putting the last piece of her own in her mouth. He started to object but her chin came up and he was so relieved just to be standing here with her challenging him, that he took the sandwich and ate half of it in one bite.

She shook her hair—dry now in soft waves around her face—back from her face a little and smiled wryly. "That was very compliant of you, Booth."

Responding to the spirit of her statement, he slouched back against the counter casually, "Maybe I'm feeling like humoring you right now, Bones."

"Does that mean you will take me to church then? Even though you wouldn't take me before?"

Surprised, Booth realized he really _did_ feel compliant. And grateful. Whatever she wanted. Anything. "Sure, Bones. Do you want to go now?"

"If that is okay with you."

"It is, but are you sure you don't want to crash for the night? Aren't you tired? Do you...do you..." His voice dropped a little in anxiety, "want company? I could stay the night on the couch if you don't want to be alone."

Now, again, he was reminded of how much he...liked...this woman. Her eyes were steady on his and her voice was confident, even as she admitted her own weakness and surprise. "No, Booth. I have no desire to sleep right now. I napped in the car, as you know, and it's only early evening. And far from feeling fear, as you suggest, I feel..." Her eyes shifted away from his for a minute as she thought, "invincible." His brows shot up and she laughed, a little wild, like those first laughs in the open air just a few hours ago. "I feel invincible! Or at least triumphant." She reached out an plucked the last piece of sandwich from his fingers, popping it into her mouth and saying around her mouthful of food, "I"ll probably want you to walk me to the parking garage for the foreseeable future, but right now, I don't feel primarily fear. I feel like we won a battle. Hodgins and I were very clever, and you and Zach and Angela and Cam were very clever. Undoubtedly I will be forced to admit later that someone else was clever although I do _not_ want to hear about it now. And so since you _are_ feeling so compliant, I believe that I would like to, at the very least, go to church, drive, and carry a gun." She grinned mischievously up at him.

The glad burst of sound that came from his throat felt good and he slung his arm around her. "All right, Bones, but I need to stop at my apartment first. I can't go to church like this."

"Why Booth? Do you think that God is paying attention to what you are wearing?"

"Bones, can you just save the blasphemy for when we are actually in the church? That way, when I ask for forgiveness on your behalf, we have the best chance of God granting it?" He joked, no heat in his outrage. Not now, not today.

She walked to the dining room table and zipped on a brown hoody sweater and snapped on one of her fancy necklaces. She looked up. "I'm ready."

He nodded his agreement. "Let's go." He held out his arm and she took it.

**B**

Forty five minutes later Booth knelt, head bowed, and let comfort seep into his body, soothe the animal roused to hunt and protect back to sleep. The candles and the welcome of his church; Bones and her uncompromising posture, her questions, at his side, alive and whole. Booth allowed himself to relax his vigilance finally.

"What'd you ask for?" He was even glad for the familiar hint of aggression and challenge in her tone.

"That's between me and a certain saint." He shifted his body, not rising to the bait. "Although I did ask for a little help, finding the Gravedigger."

"Good move." She said, this time seeming genuinely approving. She sniffed, "What's that _smell_?"

"The candles." He nodded faintly toward them. "And I said thanks...you should try it some time."

"If I was going to pray, I would have done it right before we set off the explosion."

"And you didn't?" He was unsurprised by the conversation that followed and curiously indifferent to her irreverence. He was calm, feeling the thrum of underlying gratitude and goodwill at her deliverance. And so they came to the heart of the matter, of his gratitude. His heart. And hers.

The telltale shine of tears and the thick warp of her voice. "I knew you wouldn't give up."

He let her see his joy, his faith. "I knew you wouldn't give up."

The moment stretched, their eyes meeting in the illumination from the candles and the fading daylight streaming through the stained glass high above. Finally, she cleared her throat and looked away, shifting.

"I'm hungry." She said bluntly.

He nodded. "Well, then, let's go get something to eat." He rose and held out a hand to her, to usher her past him. Instead, she took the offered hand as she slid past him out of the pew. He was surprised but not unhappy to hold her hand out of the church.

He guided them to the truck and they drove to a diner he knew—not _their _diner, not where he and Cam had sat so recently, her trying to get him to go to New York and him thinking that he wasn't sure he was ready for this relationship to become one where they went away for the weekend together.

"Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?" They weren't holding hands anymore, since he was driving.

"I don't believe in God, but...but, I know that feeling, the desire to express my gratitude. I don't direct it toward an higher power, but maybe..." and here her voice dropped, like she was uncertain or like she was confessing something a little shameful, "to the universe, to myself, to the spirit in human beings and human societies that gather to make light, to push back against the force in the world that kills or maims or renders helpless. All societies have rituals to celebrate life. Dances. Feasts or festivals. Offerings."

He let the silence stand as he took in her words. He wasn't sure what to say, what she was saying. Was she asking for something?

"Very poetic, Bones." She smiled slightly but didn't say anything else as they parked.

**B**

Being with Bones was never like being with anyone else. There were times when her beauty and vitality, the undeniable chemistry between them, terrified him. If he fell, he would fall _hard_. And nothing would save him if she didn't want him or if it ended badly. He could be broken by her, knew it. Knew too that he had access to her that no one else had, that probably she felt the same threat her safety when they allowed themselves to get close to crossing some barrier that kept them apart. On the other hand, being with her was really...fun. Hearing about how she and Hodgins had created breathable air out of the chemicals in her camera _who knew how to DO that?_ and rigged the airbags to blow _he understood that better_ even the way that she had taken inventory, not to mention performed surgery. The way her mind worked, curious and alive, drew him in and he found himself describing their own search for her and Hodgins much more calmly than he would have thought.

They finished their meal and their conversation, having ended up speculating _despite Bones' distaste for conjecture, she was surprisingly good at it sometimes_ on the Gravedigger's whereabouts, methods, and even, ultimate purpose. As they left the unfamiliar diner _good fries not the best pie_, Bones took his hand again. Indulging in the freedom this night seemed to offer, he let his fingers thread between hers, squeeze gently back when she pressed hers into his. Something she said earlier stirred inside of him.

"C'mon, Bones, I know where to go next. I'll even," he waited until she looked up at him and slipped the keys out of his pocket to dangle in the air, "let you drive." Her answering laugh was sweet.

**B**

There was no line but from the sound of music and voices, the shifting lights in the colored windows, the club was busy tonight. It had been a couple years since he'd been here but not so many that the bartender didn't shout a greeting. A few regulars waved or nodded and one woman raised her eyes in question and invitation where she stood in conversation at the bar. _Need a partner?_ He shook his head and drew Bones toward the dance floor, aware but not caring about the eyes following them. Bones, always contrary, resisted. "Booth, I'm not dressed for dancing. I...I...I don't even know how to salsa dance!"

He swung her into his arms, moving her gently but decisively into the crowd, letting the cover of other bodies be their privacy. He grinned down at her and leaned over to say in her ear, "Dancing, Bones. You said societies celebrate by dancing." He leaned back, tried to charm her. "I know how to do this, trust me. Just follow my lead." Knowing she would fight him for it. Bones never was very good at following. But tiredness, or tonight's special neutrality and openness, something seemed to guide her feet. They danced song after song, three or four or five anyway, until he felt her begin to tire. He stopped then, but the memory of those songs was burned into his memory: her laughter, the way their feet moved _quick quick _but their hips moved _slow and loose_, the sweat dampening the curls around her face and shiny in the hollow of her neck, his own shirt sticking to his back, suitcoat long discarded, the feel of her waist under his palm, the pads of her fingers gripping his shoulder. Intimate and physical. He was once again reminded of his gratitude in their heavy breaths and happy bodies.

He caught her hand and led her to the bar. Marissa came with bottles of water. "Want a beer too?" She shouted above the music.

He looked at Bones questioningly but she shook her head. Booth smiled back at the woman. "Not tonight!" She held his attention one minute more despite the way his eyes wanted to travel back to the woman gulping water next to him.

"Come back soon, Seeley! Don't be such a stranger. Bring your friend, and have a beer on the house. 'Kay?" He nodded and smiled, promising.

And then he let Bones draw him away.

**B**

"My turn." She had said.

"Your turn to what?" He had answered, in the cool air outside the club.

"To celebrate." She looked smug as she dragged him by the hand toward the truck, clearly planning on taking advantage of his willingness to let her drive as long as possible.

"Where are we going, Bones?" He didn't bother to try to open the door for her, even tired she was quick and would beat him to it. He climbed into the passenger side, not liking it, and turned toward her as she buckled in.

"It'll take an hour to get where we are going." She stopped and paused, thinking.

"What?" He prompted, finally.

She turned just her head, her eyes shining in the ambient street light. "You don't have access to a motorcycle do you?"

"Uh...what do you need a motorcycle for, Bones?"

"Well, the drive to where I want to go is about an hour and," she looked a little sheepish now, "I'm not sure I want to be...shut into a car for that length of time." Booth thought, and then took out his phone. One phone call later, he had borrowed a teammate's motorcycle. He only lived half a mile, maybe, from where they were in the city and it wasn't long before they were putting on borrowed helmets. Booth had insisted that Bones take the windbreaker his friend had offered, and refused to let her drive the borrowed machine. She gave in with relatively good grace, mumbling under her breath that she had driven a motorcycle once before and was a very quick learner. But she wasn't licensed for it and he was and that was that.

An hour later, they weren't far from Sandy Point State Park, on the ocean, but she had led him unerringly down increasingly narrow roads to an area along the coast with small but private houses, its affluence marked by that privacy, not by mansions or swimming pools. They parked at one such private house, no other vehicles present, the windows dark.

"Who's house is this, Bones?" His voice sounded loud in the sudden quiet. His body felt cold with the sudden loss of her body pressed close against him from behind.

She answered distractedly, digging for something in her bag. "I am a famous author, Booth. I know many famous people. Another famous author with whom I spent the weekend at a Book festival offered to entertain me at his house, this house, and I still have the key." She started toward the water, Booth assumed, and was fitting the key into the gate when he caught up to her.

"Bones!" He hissed. "I am not going to go into a house where you...you...indulged your "biological urges"!"

"Ahhh." She made a small sound of satisfaction when she got the key seated in the lock in the dark. "What? Oh, no, Booth. We never had sex. I wasn't interested, and once his initial dejection diminished, he and I became good friends over that weekend. I have spent several weekends here—he doesn't use the house often—working on my books. I don't want to use the house tonight though..." And she grabbed his hand again, warm against his cold one. _Well, she should be warm, _he thought, _she had her hands in his pockets while I had mine on the handlebars. _But again, he found it impossible to hold onto any anger toward her this night.

She let go of his hand to take her shoes and socks off, roll up the cuffs of her pants so that she could wade into the cold briny water, waves lapping at the shore. Nothing was truly remote this close to the city but the muted hum of traffic, the dull urban glow above the trees, served to make this tiny beach seem even more secluded and special. Booth stayed where he was, not sure he wanted to take off his shoes and follow her in, not sure what he would do if she wanted him to.

But she didn't make a move to draw him into the water, only stood, straight and calm, just a foot from shore, head tipped to look either across the horizon or at the low sky, studded with faint stars. He wasn't sure which, but he was reminded of the church, earlier. Of the peace and the quiet and the stillness. Her even breathing and gentle curiosity as she looked around at the church. The way she sat next to and behind him while he prayed. He thought about sitting—there were several logs placed nearby around a firepit—but after the long drive...well, better to stand. He settled into a resting position learned in the army. _He could stand like this for hours_, was his last clear thought for many, many minutes, because Bones had turned in place and he knew she was looking at him where he stood, but it was dark and he couldn't make out her expression.

She walked out of the water and didn't come to him, but she did take her clothes off. _Jesus_, he breathed silently. Piece by piece. Her pants joined the pile with socks and shoes. Then the windbreaker and hoody. She pulled her shirt off over her head. _She was in her bra and underwear._ Without pause, she removed and dropped them on the tiny heap of clothes. _Amazing that such a small amount of fabric can cover something so well that it...it... Oh. Fuck._

Like a goddess, all smooth curves and long muscles, her breasts heavy and pale as she moved back toward the water. She hesitated just slightly when her feet met the cold water again and she carefully picked her way forward over whatever rocks or seaweed she found there. When she was out far enough, he watched her dive in smoothly and his breath caught until she surfaced and then he stopped breathing again as she rose, gasping at the cold, water streaming down her back and lower. She was only in the water up to mid-thigh and Booth could see everything. He found himself at the water's edge, shoes and socks removed, and realized that he was ready to go in after her if she needed help.

But she didn't. She dove into the water again and smoothly breast-stroked deeper until she was clearly over her head, treading water endlessly, her smooth hair and the pale oval of her face bobbing gently as he worried that she was too far away.

"Booth." She called out.

"Yeah, Bones."

"Even after two showers, I could feel the sand still. In my hair, on my skin, in my mouth."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I didn't bring you here for that, but I realized now that I feel cleaner."

"Why _did_ you bring me here?"

The sound of water moving was his only answer, and he watched as she swam back into shore, back to him, trying to control and dispel his body's reaction to hers before she reached him. She walked clumsily out of the water and dragged her clothes on hurriedly, clearly cold. He made no move to help, knowing that if he got too close to her, he might just take her back out of them again.

Her dark form, clothed again but still barefoot, padded toward him. She reached him and kept going, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her damp body against his. His arms came down around her automatically and she pressed her cheek to his chest, snuggling into him so that the side of his chin and lower face rested against her forehead. Her arms tightened as her body relaxed against him. Something piercing cut through the deep fog of contentment and patience that had settled on him since he dug her out of the earth this afternoon.

"An offering," she spoke against his neck, her breath hot against his chilled skin.

"What?" He whispered. She raised her head and tried to meet his eyes in the dark. He couldn't really see much but he could hear her, feel her.

"LIke I said before. Societies everywhere celebrate life. Sometimes with a ceremony, a festival. For us, we had a meal. We danced. And now, I...I needed to offer something. An exchange. My own heat for the cold of the water. The safety of clothes for nakedness."

He let his hand rest against her cheek. "Bones that is very...metaphoric...for you. I was worried," he admitted. "You shouldn't be swimming alone in the dark. What if something happened?"

"What could happen with you here? Perhaps," the familiar sound of analysis was reassuring, "that invalidates my offering. I was hardly unsafe with you nearby." For his _own_ safety, he let his hand slip from her face to curve around her neck, pulling her head back down to his chest and she subsided. He hugged her fully, let his hands rub and press against her back, letting the knowledge that she was safe, with him, fill the night. Again, he felt something real, and sharp, rise up in him and this time, it compelled him to speak.

"_Bones_." His voice was harsh suddenly and his arms tightened of their own accord.

"What, Booth?" She tried to lean back again, to respond, but he pressed a palm against her head and she stopped fighting him.

"You...you have to stay...you have to...you can't..." His heart was pounding in his chest now as he struggled to get the words out. Finally, he did, but when they came, they were a whisper and he never was sure whether she even heard all of them. "You are not allowed to die, baby. Bones, do you hear me?" His arms tightened further. "You are not allowed to die. Okay? Okay?" When she didn't answer, he felt real anger for the first time since rescuing her, helping her rescue herself. He shook her a little. "Do you hear me?"

"I hear you, Booth. All right. I promise."

He let out a little laugh and even he could hear the despair in it, as she promised something she _couldn't_ promise. "Bones, no lecture?"

"No, Booth. Rationally, I know that I cannot promise to never die. Of course I will die one day as all living organisms do, yourself included. But I...think that you are not really asking me not to die. Maybe..." He waited, breathless, for her to work it out, because he sure as shit didn't know what he was asking, he just knew he needed something from her, a promise, an acknowledgement that her well-being was linked to his.

"Maybe...I think you are asking me not to leave you." And now he felt tears prick _his _eyes. "Again, rationally, I cannot promise that there won't be something or someone that will cause that to happen. I don't _want_ to leave you. I know that I didn't want to leave you today, when I faced death, in that car. I can promise that I will not leave you unless I think you want me to, or if we have decided together to part ways. "

He buried his face in her shoulder, her wet hair cool against his cheek. "Never happen." He muttered.

"Well, perhaps, but that will have to be good enough." She gave him one last squeeze and then moved away. She put her socks and shoes on and then took his hand again.

**B**

Later, halfway home, he felt her grow heavy against his back. He stopped at an all-night diner, although it wasn't yet midnight even, and they drank coffee and he ordered another piece of pie to go. He led her to the edge of a small rest stop park next to the parking lot. He handed her the drinks and pie and settled himself on the ground against a tree. Booth reached for the food and Bones settled willingly between his legs, leaning against him and drinking her coffee. She even ate some of the chocolate pudding from his pie and when they were done, he let them sit only a minute more, afraid she'd get sleepy again.

At last, they were at her apartment. Booth stopped trying to talk himself out of it and walked through all the rooms, checking closets and good hiding spaces, reassuring himself that she wasn't going to be kidnapped again tonight. She watched him patiently, offering only a token objection, knowing he needed to do this.

"Satisfied?" She asked him when he came back to her where she leaned in the hallway, waiting.

"Yep." He said. "Listen, Bones, do you want me to stay, because I—"

"No, Booth. I'm fine. I'll probably sleep with the light on, but I will be all right tonight." One last time she took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Thank you for tonight. It was an unexpectedly wonderful end to an otherwise truly awful day." She smiled ruefully and he returned it.

"Okay, if that's what you want." He answered, knowing full well he wasn't leaving, not that Bones needed to know that.

He waited an hour, long after the apartment was quiet, before letting himself back in. He thought about sitting in the chair in her bedroom, just watching over her, but was afraid he'd fall asleep or scare her when she found him there in the morning. In the end, he just stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers and climbed into bed with her. She roused and scooted back against him, reaching back for his arm and pulling it around her.

"Booth. What took you so long? Turn out the light, would you please?" Her voice was slurred with sleep and she was out again before he could answer. _She must have showered again,_ he thought as he pressed his face into her neck. _Damn, she smelled good_. And he smiled against her hair and let his body relax against hers.

AN(2): True to form, I intended to cover at least twice the time period I actually did cover. I didn't fill much of the space between the two episodes. I didn't even get past the first night. And yes, I too, believe that Booth would be sure that he was truly separate from Cam before starting something with Brennan but nothing really _happened_ here. That said, in _my_ story Booth breaks up with Cam tomorrow and Brennan never goes out with the fireman which is kind of sad because of that scene in the restaurant and Booth comforting her later, but I'll get over it. In any case, perhaps there will be a 2nd chapter. Who knows?


End file.
